


A Warning Voice That Comes in the Night

by jazzypizzaz



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (rewrite), Brainwashing, Episode: s06e20 His Way, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, Ghosts, Growing Up, M/M, Mystery, haunted station
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: Late one lonely night during a case of writer's block, Jake takes a stroll around the station and encounters an honest-to-prophets ghost! Is this a case of imagination getting the best of him? Perhaps the story he's writing got out of hand. Plucky duo Jake and Nog take it upon themselves to investigate: defective computers, Earth legends on an alien station, creepy holoprograms, ominous music, matchmaking, and... true love??
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys, Kira Nerys & Odo, Nog & Jake Sisko, Nog/Jake Sisko, Odo/Quark (Star Trek)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 55
Collections: Star Trek Halloween Horror Bang 2020





	A Warning Voice That Comes in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [careful boys, i hear that pylon’s haunted...](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/706873) by Ani (completelygarish). 



> huge kudos to Ani for the awesome art!! 
> 
> thanks also to curzodo & b for beta-reading!

Jake taps the stylus against the padd. He deletes a sentence he wrote a full thirty minutes ago. He sighs, writes a few words, then deletes them again. Stretched lengthwise across the couch, he drapes himself further over the arm, so that his upper half is fully upside-down and, relevantly, can see the closed door to Nog’s bedroom.

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine what it’s like to be more auditorily-focused. The low background hum of life support systems. The sound of his own breathing. He strains -- nothing else to his human ears on this late silent night, not even the chirp of Vilix'pran’s fledglings across the hall who rarely all sleep at the same time.

Jake imagines he can also hear the faint snore of Nog fast asleep in his room, though Nog swears by his life savings that he doesn’t. “I would know!” Nog had said, gesturing to his ears.

Jake snorts at the memory, then glances back down at his padd and sighs. When had their last conversation, as friends not as roommates, even been? With their opposite schedules, it’s like Jake is living in the Kendra province time zone on Bajor and Nog is on another planet entirely. Every day these past several weeks, they’ve had plans for dinner together, and every day it’s fallen through. Jake wishes he could blame it all on Nog being a workaholic -- always picking up extra shifts and staying late, something to prove -- but evening tends to be when Jake’s best writing inspiration hits.

Yesterday, Jake spent most of the day at the bar sipping on Quark’s latest attempts at boba tea. Not just that, of course -- the bar is a great place for character inspiration, and the background noise helps him focus on writing. That night was more of the former than the latter. Or maybe it was just eavesdropping:

“A date with _who_?” Jadzia said incredulously at the table behind Jake, blowing on her raktajino. “After all this time, why now?”

“I know!” Kira laughed a little, somewhat embarrassed. “I had no idea he had it in him. I never even considered he would be interested.”

“I know you didn’t.” Jadzia raised her eyebrows. “But you’re considering it?”

“Well, Vic said Odo's not taking no for answer. Sounds like it’s serious.”

Jadzia let out a low whistle. “That’s not a good enough reason. And I thought you didn’t trust holograms, sentient or not.”

“But I do trust Odo. All the more reason to go on the date tomorrow, hear from him firsthand.” Kira toyed with her hasperat, shredding the layers of the wrap instead of eating it. “Besides you’re always telling me I should get out to the holosuites more, have fun. This could be fun.”

“I meant go to the holosuites more with _me_ ,” Jadzia smirks, and Kira laughs. _Trying to pass it off as a joke, amused and above it all, but there’s something more there_ , Jake notes. “I’m all for fun, but I’m saying you don’t have to date a guy just because he asks. Or because he gets a hologram to do it for him. What about what _you_ want?”

“It’s one date! And how will I know what I want if I don’t --” Kira’s attention abruptly redirected towards the upper level, where Jake saw Constable Odo enter the bar. She hastily started clearing the table. “I’ll… catch you later, for a round of springball maybe?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jadzia said lightly. After Kira kissed her goodbye on the cheek, however, Jake noticed how Jadzia absently stirred her drink, watching Kira leave, slight furrow in her brow.

On the other side of where Jake sat at the bar, Odo hummed as he strolled towards the counter.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Quark said from behind the counter, looking Odo up and down. “There are a couple of shifty-eyed fellows that keep coming in here, maybe you could check them out for me --”

“Debt collectors no doubt. Tough luck fink, I’m on break.” Odo was trying out a weird accent, like he was mimicking someone.

“Vegas program then or perhaps I can talk you into something… juicier?”

“ _[Keep that breathless charm](https://youtu.be/YFham2Xu6nA?t=107)… Won’t you please arrange it?_” Odo sang, snapping his fingers a bit along with the beat.

“Okay, same one, sure.” Quark had a data rod ready to hand over. “It only took you eight years to enjoy a holoprogram, maybe in eight more you’ll try a more exciting one. More drama, more racy than dusty old hoo-mans.”

“Vic has taught me more about --” Odo paused to grunt. “ _\-- romance_ than any of your filth ever could.”

By this point, Odo had his elbows on the counter, leaning over to smile smugly in Quark’s face.

Quark loosened his collar and quirked an eyeridge. “Is that so?”

“With enough of his lessons, one day I’ll be able to sweep Kira right off her feet.” Odo snapped his fingers for emphasis.

Quark scoffed. “You're going to get yourself hurt.” He moves away from where Odo is leaning over the counter to wipe down several bottles behind him.

“Your pornography is just play-acting; it can't help me with real life romance. And you think _I’m_ hopeless. Pah!”

“Whatever. While you’re warbling with that old fogey, I'll have all sorts of opportunities to get into trouble,” Quark taunted, but Odo was already chuckling his way up to the holosuites.

Quark sighed and muttered under his breath, “I told him to forget about her.”

“What sort of trouble you think?” Jake asked, stylus poised to take notes. “Purely for fictional research purposes of course.”

Quark scowled and shook a cleaning rag at Jake semi-threateningly. “Mind your own business.”

But the neurons in Jake’s brain were already flying at full warp with ideas for a story based on those conversations. A matchmaking ghost, who secretly sets up a couple yearning for love, but he has his own ulterior motives… Revenge? Or he longs for love himself. Or perhaps it involves an ancient ritual, so that he can rise from the dead… Buzzing with ideas, Jake wrote and wrote into the evening.

Some indeterminate amount of time later -- minutes? days? -- Jake came up for air to notice a few missed comms from Nog:

“Are you still coming to dinner at the Klingon restaurant? Because a couple of the transfers from the _Lagos_ are here, and now they agreed to show me a new technique for purging the manifolds. Maybe tomorrow?”

By then Nog was long past asleep, so Jake continued to write. Until now, when he finally feels petered out.

One thing’s certain though: laying about wearing a Jake-shaped dent into the couch without external stimulus beyond the most tepid of night sounds, alone in the night and pouting about his friendship isn’t helping anything.

Jake double-checks that his padd saved everything to the main computer, then swings to his feet and tiptoes out the door.

\---

The station is as quiet as it ever gets. Too late for the last stragglers at Quark’s and too early for morning shift -- that strange witching hour when the living world otherwise lies fast asleep, but occasionally, when the timing is right and the veil between worlds shrinks Tholian-gossamer thin, the dead might wake.

Or so old Earth superstitions said, in the story research Jake had been doing before the inspiration at the bar. After his father’s life (and his own by extension) had become so entrenched in Bajoran myth and prophecy, Jake had started to dig into his own planet’s storytelling traditions.

Lost in thought while wandering the station, Jake somehow ends up deep in a lower pylon. The lights are set to default Cardassian-low, casting odd shadows. Leftover particulate from ore processing days still lingers, lending a musky metallic scent to the air. The hum and whir of background life support systems and unknown mechanics seem clamorous in the lifelessness of the night.

A draft brings goosebumps to Jake’s skin, and he shudders.

He’s been reading books on dead corpses rising in Earth graveyards, about lost souls in misty swamps, about unidentified lights flashing in country skies, and all manner of unexplainable phenomena in Earth myth. They had enticed him, drawn him in with their mystique, the allure of events that defied (or predated) scientific explanation.

However, the chill down his spine while tucked away safe in bed, story on a padd in hand, doesn’t compare with physically walking through what might be haunted ground.

Sometimes the station becomes such a routine to his life that Jake forgets what the Cardassians originally built it for. Forgets about the people who had worked, suffered, died in these halls for the sake of others’ greed. Jake doesn’t believe in Bajoran pagh, or human conceptions of the soul, life after death -- any of that. Not logically, not as a Starfleet kid with a Federation education. But he can’t shake the impression that some places become imbued with their histories, that memories and past events live on in physical geographies.

Well if he didn’t have some inclination towards the ineffable, he’d be an engineer not a writer.

Low whispering. Faint rhythms.

Jake stops, then proceeds with caution.

The whispering grows louder.

He steps lightly, straining to hear. He can’t make out the words, but there’s percussion accompanying the voice.

Jake thinks of the Bajorans who used to work in the ore processing facilities down here. Plans for escape in hushed tones so their overseers wouldn’t overhear. The rhythmic clanging of processing machinery the background of their every waking hour. [The beat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20v6FF0qnzU) awakes a strange horror from within Jake.

A flash of white, right in front of him.

Staticky feedback erupts then fades.

Real, tangible sensory input.

Jake yelps. He jumps a foot in the air, landing on shaky legs. Heart pounding he turns tail and runs.

\---

“Nog, hey Nog!” Jake feels safer the instant he enters their quarters, and even more safe once he sees his roommate sleeping peacefully. He bounces onto the bed.

Nog spews out some slurred half-asleep Ferengi that the Universal Translator doesn’t catch and flops over with a snort.

“Nog, I saw something really freaky down in the pylons. I think it was --”

“Jake,” Nog says in a sleep-rough voice, without opening his eyes. “Are you my oh-five-thirty alarm saying it’s time for Worf’s battle-ready workout class?”

“No --”

“Then tell me later. I have a double shift tomorrow.”

Nog, in his cute footie pajamas, nuzzles into his pillow and draws up his plinkabeast fleece blanket up further around him. His breathing evens back out.

“But…” Jake says. He doesn’t want to go back to his own bed, alone. Not when Nog looks so cozy and at peace, not while tenderness elbows out his earlier fright.

The adrenaline now ebbing away, exhaustion hits Jake at once.

Nog groans and wiggles over to one side of the bed. “You can stay if you let me _sleep_.”

Jake, relieved, doesn’t waste time. Despite the terseness of the invite, Nog snuggles up against him before Jake even closes his eyes, clinging to Jake in a way that makes everything right with the world.

The shadows and whisperings and flashes fade from Jake’s mind, as he drifts off into a blank dreamland.

\---

A distant chuckle echoes.

Jake shoots upright, awake.

He rubs his head, clearing the cobwebs. He’d been in the middle of a dream about an old melty-faced woman flying around on ancient cleaning supplies and her army of flying Cardassian voles.

He glances around. He’s still in Nog’s bed, which is empty... as is the room, as are their quarters. The noise must have been leftover from the dream.

He wishes Nog were here, to ask if he heard anything.

\---

All day, Jake catches himself watching the chronometer, counting down the minutes until he can talk more to Nog about what he saw.

The jangled nerves leftover from the previous night fuel some productive midday writing. Jake decides that the ghost does have ulterior motives in his matchmaking. He’s tricking the couple into raising him from the dead, so that he’s no longer in such dreadful limbo doomed to haunt the same ancient house and alone for centuries with the world passing him by.

When he checks that it’s synced to the main computer, there’s a notification that his writing folder had been accessed last night by someone else. It’s on privacy lock, as is standard for personal files, and there’s no indication who it might have been like there normally would be. After some brief diagnostics, Jake dismisses it as interference from the old Cardassian network - wouldn't be the first weird error.

The lights flicker on and off. A brief cold breeze.

Jake blinks and shivers.

“Computer, what was that? Assess living controls.”

“Quarters are set at standard temperature, lighting, oxygen levels --”

“Okay thanks. That’s enough.”

Strange.

Jake anxiously checks the chronometer. It’s late afternoon, but only now does Jake recall that Nog is on a double-shift, so probably won’t make it to dinner or at least not for very long. No longer able to stand being alone with his ghost story, Jake rushes out the door to track him down anyway.

\---

“Nog, hey, really weird stuff has been happening I’ve got to talk to you about --”

“Jake, I’m at _work_. Chief O’Brien will come around any moment to check my progress. He’s my boss, I want to show him what I can do, not be caught gossiping about your nightmares --” Nog says in hushed blunt tones. He continues scanning the system controls, punching in adjustments every so often.

“It wasn’t a nightmare!”

Nog gives him a confused look, but the Chief ambles up before Jake can explain.

“Can I help you with something Jake?” The Chief says while double-checking Nog’s calibration. “You want to grab a tricorder and help out?” He chuckles.

“Uhh, no I had something to ask Nog. And you! Maybe you can help,” Jake says.

Nog behind O’Brien rapidly shakes his head "no".

“I was um taking a walk down in the pylons. Couldn’t sleep, ya know, and I -- I heard talking. Strange flashes of light.” The specifics sound sillier said aloud in the day. “Maybe if Engineering could go down there and check it out...”

“Chief O’Brien, I’ll deal with this, don’t worry,” Nog deepens his tone, in what Jake thinks of as his ‘talking to superiors’ voice. “Jake’s been reading scary stories, for his writing, that’s probably all.” Nog gives the Chief a meaningful look that Jake resents.

“Oh c’mon Nog, I was _there_ in Lower Pylon 3 and then --”

But the Chief chuckles. “Lower Pylon 3 you said? Did you hear that, Martiz?” he says to an engineer nearby, who joins him in laughing.

“What? What’s so funny?” Jake frowns.

“Oh you’re not wrong,” the Chief says. “Lower Pylon 3 is haunted alright.”

“ _What?_ ” Nog says.

“Hah, see Nog?” Jake punches him in the arm.

“Sure. Strange sounds, odd flashes, sparks.” O’Brien shrugs, unconcerned. “Can’t explain it, but if I investigated every little thing that acted out-of-order on this station… Probably crossed wires or some such. I barely have enough time to do my job as it is.”

Jake deflates. “But if the haunting spreads, maybe it could uhh impact other systems? You know there was something weird with my personal files this morning...”

“I tell you what Jake. You find me, oh, twenty more trained staff members, and maybe I’ll get around to it.” O’Brien snaps the wall console closed and opens up the next one for calibration. “Until then, I’ve got a whole long list of problems to work through first. Squeaky wheel gets the grease and all that.”

O'Brien walks off to double check the next ensign’s work. Nog has finally paused in his calibrations to pay attention to Jake.

“You know what that means right?" Jake says. "We’ve got to investigate this ourselves.”

\---

Of course, Nog has to finish out his shift first, but Jake practically ambushes his best friend once he finally drags himself back to their room, Starfleet uniform rumpled from a long day.

“What happened, you were supposed to be back ages ago… We’ve got to investigate, remember?”

“All I want is to drink a hot cup of snail juice, put on my pajamas, and go to sleep,” Nog groans. “There were all these weird computer glitches, nothing substantial but _weird_. Chief O’Brien had us running every diagnostic in the book, but we couldn’t track down a source.”

“Something like that happened to me earlier. I’ll bet anything that it has to do with that haunted pylon.”

“And when was the last time you had a bet that paid off? You still owe me four strips from dabo two months ago…” Nog grumbles, but there's no bite to it, and he lets Jake drag him out the door without resistance.

Jake chatters while he leads Nog down to the pylon, to fill the quiet. “So, I went out walking last night and saw something down near one of the old ore processing facilities. You know this sort of thing used to happen on Earth, or at least in stories. They show up in graveyards or houses where people were murdered, and I know we were mostly goofing off during the history modules in Keiko’s class, but still you know how many people have died here, so I was thinking --”

“Jake. Slow down. My brain has been pulverized into mush by computer code. Who shows up in graveyards? And what did you actually experience, for real not just getting spooked by your stories?” Nog rubs his temples as they walk. “Because I checked computer logs for the pylons, and nothing was noted as out of the ordinary.”

Jake realizes he’s still gripping Nog’s arm and lets go.

“That proves it,” Jake says. He takes a deep breath. “I saw a ghost.”

Silence. In the company of his best friend in the bright lights of the lift, the eeriness of the previous night feels distant. Not so real anymore.

“A what.” Nog looks askance at him, and they exit the lift into the pylon.

“It’s-- I saw, you know like the spirit of someone who died?” Out loud it sounds silly. “Or -- I don’t know. There was whispering but no one was around, weird sounds. A flash of white.”

“Wait.” Nog stops abruptly. Jake sighs with impatience -- if he could just _show_ Nog how strange it was down here. “That’s really all?”

“What do you -- well yeah but it was _weird_! If I could show you...”

Nog nods, as if that settles that. “Then I am returning to the room. I don’t have time for your pranks.” He about-faces back to the lift.

“No! Wait, Nog --” Jake grabs at Nog’s arm to stop him.

Nog raises a skeptical eye ridge. “One, ghosts are a human thing. Two, ghosts aren’t _real_. Three, I’m on duty again tomorrow since we spent all evening coding in circles, and I need to be rested.”

“You’re allowed to take a break you know!” Jake’s face falls. They’ve fought about Nog’s work schedule before, and that isn’t the battle to pick right now. “Yeah okay. I wouldn’t believe me either, I guess.”

Nog frowns, but stays put. “Four, just last week you tried to convince me that the new Andorian transfers were Cardassian sleeper agents.” He hugs his arms to his chest. “I lost valuable networking time because I didn’t want to reveal too much.”

“Aw, you’re still going on about that? I only wanted to remind you how we used to have fun together, making up stories about people as they walked past on the Promenade. Since you came back from Starfleet you’re always so serious. But this is completely different --”

“You -- you’re just trying to pull one over on me, but I’m not a gullible kid anymore.”

“I know.” Jake rubs his face. “It was -- stupid. Never mind.”

Nog glances worriedly past Jake around the hall as if he heard something, but to Jake's ears all is quiet. “Your imagination was getting the best of you, right? That’s all.” 

Jake shrugs. “Maybe. Hey, I do appreciate you coming this far with me. It’s nice to hang out a little.”

“Yeah, it is.” Nog grins, then twitches again at a far-off sound. This time Jake also hears it -- a small clang off around the corner.

Jake decides to lay it on extra thick. He pouts a little, knowing that will seal the deal. “You’re probably right. My puny human ears were playing tricks on me, and now I’m dragging you into it. Maybe it’s just that I like your company, and I trust you, and --”

“Okay fine, okay. Shh!” Nog cocks his head. He grimaces and rubs his ear. “Did you hear that?”

There’s that faint rhythmic beat again. Jake’s stomach drops with inexplicable horror at the sound. “I _told_ you --”

“I heard someone talking. And that noise… there’s some undertone that sounds _terrible_.” This time it’s Nog who grabs Jake, pulling him by the hand down the corridor. “C’mon we’ve gotta check it out -- you’re going to need my superior Ferengi senses.”

Jake scrambles after Nog and tries not to slow him down -- he can take one step for every three of Nog’s, but unlike Nog with his early morning workouts, Jake mostly uses his legs for lounging. They make their way deeper into the pylon, the atmosphere controls dimmer and colder as they enter the less frequently used portion. The parts unchanged since Terok Nor days.

Nog puts a finger to his lips to shush and stops. They sneak in further together, on edge listening for the voice. Nog’s hand is warm and strong in Jake’s, and Jake finds he isn’t nearly as freaked out as he was when he was by himself.

Jake taps Nog’s shoulder to get his attention, then points to his own ear with a questioning look. Nog shakes his head.

Whispering, a susurrant hiss like gas being let out of a pipe, growing louder.

 _What’s it saying?_ Jake mouths at Nog, but the Universal Translator doesn’t pick up lip-reading well. Nog gets the gist anyway.

“Something about…” Nog whispers then shakes his head.

“ _[As long as I hold the string](https://youtu.be/jG6wvF_1g_o?t=48)… If I... let it go… And this is the life..._” The voice cuts in and out, but Jake can make out some words, disconnected as they are. 

“Excuse me,” Nog says into the ringing darkness. He puffs out his chest. “But who the frinx are you?”

The voice cuts off. “How much do you know, sonny boy?”

“I’m _not_ a child --”

“Tell him,” Jake says to the darkness. “You’re a ghost right? You’re dead and you’ve got… unfinished business. With the Cardassians who made you work down here? We’re not with them, so maybe -- maybe we can help.”

Nog swallows and looks at Jake like he’s crazy. He mouths in Federation Standard, _What?_

“A ghost?” The voice laughs. It speaks outdated English, Jake realizes, not Bajoran. “Ah now I know who you are. Onto my ploy are we? Unfinished business, sure that’s my bag alright.”

The laughter grows, echoing off the walls so they can’t tell the direction it’s coming from, louder and louder, with Nog wincing in pain.

“ _String around my finger… What a world…_ ”

A flash of white light again, but this time the light coalesces into a glowing figure.

“ _I can make the rain go, any time I move my finger…_ So think what I could do to you if you interfere?”

The figure floats above the ground, chuckling ominously and snapping its fingers in a deadly rhythm.

Nog and Jake exchange wide-eyed, blood-drained looks. Jake feels the beat in his chest, faster and faster races his heart thuds in time with the rhythm, on the edge of panic. Still hand-in-hand, they sprint down the corridor, gasping for breath.

\---

They don’t stop until they burst in the security office. Nog drops Jake's hand to affect a professional posture. Jake sticks his in his pocket, not wanting to be obvious how comforting he found Nog's firm grip.

“Unless it’s an emergency, do me the respect of _knocking_ first,” Odo grumbles, but there’s a strange look on his face. Is that a -- smile? He’s also humming under his breath. “I have somewhere to be, so if you must, tell me on the way.”

Jake strides after Odo as they leave the office down the Promenade, but has to massage out a side-stitch as they go.

“Sorry Constable, sir,” Nog says, his respect for authority superseding his fright. He’s barely winded; Jake really should take him up on his offer to workout together. Someday. “We have a security-related matter to bring to your attention.”

“I have to admit it’s a change of pace for you to come to _me_ with a problem, instead of me dragging _you_ in here for one thing or another.” Odo smirks. “Unlike Quark, who’s an unending mixture of both.”

“Aww c'mon, we haven’t been troublemakers like that since we were kids.”

“I am an Ensign in Starfleet for the United Federation of --”

“Yes yes, and now you’re wasting my time. Is there something wrong?”

Nog and Jake exchange glances, deciding who will admit to the supernatural.

“You see, we were down in a lower pylon, and -- “ Nog starts.

“What were you doing down there? I doubt you had any reason --”

“We were just taking a late night stroll, is that illegal now?” Jake says.

“Illegal? No. Suspicious? Possibly.”

“Anyway, we ran into an audiovisual --”

“We saw a _ghost_ ,” Jake cuts Nog off.

Nog sighs heavily. “An audiovisual anomaly. I’m betting it didn’t show up on station readings again, could be the trouble we’ve had with the main computer system in Ops recently. Not sure what it is -- alien activity, an intruder, that sort of thing. It spoke to us and uhh projected an image of a glowing figure...”

“But there was no one there?” Odo squints at them.

Jake rubs the back of his neck. “Apparently no detected life signs or recent activity showed up the first time, so probably no proof. But it was just like the stories I’m writing! He, the glowing figure, even said so -- that he has unfinished business, has us all wrapped around his finger like string. Like he’s the one calling the shots and we don’t even know it yet.”

“Then my advice to you is… don’t worry about it.” Odo’s fingers twitch in an intentional rhythm. His hums turn into singing, _“[Hey baby what's your hurry, relax and don't you worry…”](https://youtu.be/6LO2IpBKtlw?t=27)_

“But -- stranger things have happened here before. And Jake has trouble sleeping he’s so scared.”

“No I'm not!”

“Well you --”

“Boys, boys… Don’t be such Clydes. Or a Harvey.” Odo chuckles. “Unless you encounter anything more than a few odd sounds and an overactive imagination, my advice to you is to loosen up.”

“Loosen up?” Nog squints like he’s never heard of the concept.

“Sleep with the lights on, don’t go back in the pylon. Life’s too short to spend getting worked up over nothing,” Odo says. He hums a bit more snapping his fingers as he does so. “I’ve seen how serious you boys have gotten now that you’re adults… Maybe go have a little fun in the holosuite, take your mind off imagined demons.”

Jake and Nog openly stare at him, bewildered.

“Which is what I’m about to do, if you’ll excuse me.” Having reached the entrance to the bar, Odo shifts with a flourish into an old Earth-style tuxedo and struts off to the holosuites.

Jake lets out a long breath of frustration. “Well _that_ was helpful. I suppose you’re on his side, that it’s nothing.”

“That we should go run along like dumb kids?” Nog scoffs. He sits down and orders a root beer from a passing waiter. Despite his complaints earlier in the evening, he looks wide-awake. “No, we’re getting to the bottom of this.”

“What next?” Jake asks. “I’m seriously weirded out. What did the ghost mean, _I know you_?”

“I don’t know, seems like he’s planning something though...” Nog sips at his root beer. “You mentioned it was just like your story? You know you haven’t told me much about it yet.”

“It’s not finished. I really only made progress yesterday, which is why I missed dinner. Sorry about that again.”

Nog spins the straw in his glass, absently. “I haven’t heard much of anything from you lately.”

Jake finds his fingernails suddenly very interesting and picks at them for a moment. He shrugs. “Yeah I don’t know. I haven’t seen much of you either. But if you’re not too freaked out right now--”

“Me? Of course not,” Nog exclaims, overly defensive.

But Jake can see how Nog’s eyes dart about, how he jumps (just a little) at sudden background noises in the bar, and Jake smirks. “Then you won’t mind a spooky tale of ghosts and loves lost and life in limbo… It started long ago, in a foggy marsh on Earth…”

Jake embellishes wildly (making mental notes to remember to write down these additions later). He’s inspired by his rapt audience -- well, Nog keeps interjecting with disbelieving asides like “What kind of marsh is it if it doesn’t even have any slime weasels?” and “ _She_ inherited a bunch of wealth and _he_ was a penniless nobody? That’s a terrible match... Humans…” -- or maybe he’s just happy to be sharing his passion with his best friend.

Jake stops mid-sentence to elbow Nog. “Hey, look it’s Major Kira. Remember how Krista in my story was inspired by that conversation with Kira and Dax I overheard? She must be going to the holosuite for her date with Odo. Look at the dress!”

“Major Kira, sir!” Nog bellows when she comes closer, as if called to attention.

“At ease cadet.” Kira hides a smile.

“Good evening, sir. Don’t you look lovely, sir,” Nog, using his ‘buttering up authority figures’ voice.

“You’re a dear. You think so?”

“Definitely. Now, sir if we could ask --”

“Oh I know, kind of a simple outfit. See, Jadiza wanted to loan me accessories themed for Earth Vegas, to really dress up. Jewelry and make-up and -- well. But I realized... it’s not that big a deal, right? It’s just dinner. We’re friends. I already dress up enough for Jadzia and that silly Camelot program.”

“Well sure, uh, but we have this problem --”

“What am I saying, why am I talking to you guys about this.” Kira shakes her head at herself and waves them off, brooking no interruption.

“Wait -- we -- uh -- sir!”

“Cadet, dismissed.” She winks, ascending the staircase to the holosuites. “And good night Jake.”

Then she’s gone. Jake scoffs. “Nice going Nog, she could have helped!”

“I didn’t hear you saying anything!”

“You seemed to have it handled,” Jake says rolling his eyes. “‘Yes sir, good evening sir!’”

“Because _I_ have some respect for authority, oh Captain’s son. That’s why I will have a successful, inspiring career, and you --”

“And what, I’ll lie around all day drinking soda pop and playing with dumb stories? Go on meaningless wild targ chases about stuff I made up?” It all slips out before Jake can think better of it.

“No, I -- I saw it too, remember?”

“Talk about respect for authority, what about respect for your best friend? I’m not calibrating manifolds or whatever, but my writing is still important! Or it will be. It’s important to me.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t! But you have to admit it’s not the same as --”

“And I don’t see why you can keep cancelling our hangouts to pick up extra shifts and chum up to your engineering buddies --”

“You didn’t even show up last night!”

“So what, I lose track of time one night when you were planning to ditch anyway, and suddenly it’s all my fault? If you’re too _important_ and _adult_ to hang out with your stupid childhood friend, then fine. I don’t need you either.”

Nog jerks his head back as if slapped. He blinks once, then power-walks back towards the quarters without a backwards glance.

“We’re going to the same place, dingus!” Jake yells after him.

Jake sighs, gives Nog a decent headstart so he can close himself off in his room without further confrontation, and then drags himself up to bed.

\---

Jake sleeps in fits and starts.

He’s being chased by something big and glowing. It’s chuckling at him horridly. Jake is running as fast as he can, but he can’t catch his breath. He’s running through endless corridors that don’t connect to anything -- a dark maze of metal arches, electrical showers, horrid laughter bouncing off the walls until Jake can’t keep track of which corner the chasing thing is around.

Faint music trickles in, ominous lyrics: “ _[In the wee small hours of the morning](https://youtu.be/MiPUv4kXzvw?t=15)… that’s when you’ll be missed most of all…_”

Fear inexplicably courses through him at the sound.

Jake trips. He scrambles to get back up but can’t -- there’s a string tied around his foot, and then his arm, and then his other foot. They’re tied around the finger of the glowing figure, who tugs it every time Jake tries to get up.

The air freezes around Jake. He shivers and blinks. When he looks back up, the glowing figure has morphed into a giant Nog, cackling and singing:

“ _I['d sacrifice anything, come what might](https://youtu.be/C1AHec7sfZ8?t=71), for the sake of having you near… In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night… And repeats, repeats in my ear --”_

Jake wakes up in a cold sweat, blankets twisted around him.

The music still chimes faintly in the background. Jake groans -- it’s not quite the bog sounds or weird atonal stuff that Nog usually listens to when he has trouble sleeping, but that’s all it is, probably. It scares and unsettles him though, and he digs up some earplugs.

Jake refrains from banging on the wall and asking Nog to turn it down.

He tosses and turns the rest of the night, but doesn’t have another nightmare.

\---

Nog is long gone when Jake wakes up, as always. Jake has a full day watching Vilix'pran’s fledglings, ten bouncing bundles of wings constantly getting tangled in each other and demanding attention. He’s too occupied to dwell much on the ghost or his nightmare or his fight with Nog.

In the afternoon, he receives a written message: “Jake, Meet me at my uncle’s bar in an hour if you can. We have an investigation to conduct. Smiley face. Regards, Cadet Nog, Operations Staff.”

Jake snorts. His first instinct is to blow off the meeting, show Nog what it feels like to be ignored. But he reads it again and softens. Several weeks ago he had complained how Nog’s messages were always so formal, that they always came off sounding like he was mad at Jake. Looks like Nog still couldn’t bring himself to use an emoji, but it was an olive branch nonetheless. Jake doesn’t actually want to fight with Nog, his frustration had just kind of all came out at once.

Plus, they have unfinished business with a ghost.

\---

When Jake enters the bar, Nog springs to his feet, posture ramrod straight and a tense expression on his face.

Jake scuffs his shoes on the floor, not looking at his friend in the eye. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Nog says, shifting his weight nervously. “So I thought… I thought we could talk to my uncle? If anything shady’s going on around the station, he’d know about it. It's what Constable Odo would do.”

Jake shrugs and accepts the détente. “Okay.”

They should be apologizing, talking it out, but Jake’s not sure how to break the ice. And he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and start the fight again, not while there’s more pressing matters.

“Uncle Quark!” Nog calls.

Quark holds up a finger “one minute” and finishes tucking in a giant napkin to Morn’s collar. He heaves a platter of some sort of crustacean in front of Morn, arranging a variety of sauces around the edge, then heads over to the boys.

“What is it? Root beer? Holosuite adventure? For the first evening all week, the holosuites aren’t all booked up.”

“How about a penny for your thoughts,” Jake says.

Quark scowls at him. “What the frinx does that mean? What’s a penny and why do I want it?”

“No, it’s -- just an expression. From ancient Earth,” Jake says. This is already going sideways. “Odo’s been so distracted with that Vegas program he won’t listen to us, so we wanted to ask you if--”

“ _Odo_ is being brainwashed, mark my words,” Quark huffs. “After all my time and effort, _now_ he decides he’s going to ‘loosen up’?” Quark doesn’t actually make the air quotes but Jake hears them, an admonition of any suggestion that Odo is even capable of loosening up. “There’s your mystery, boys.”

Jake shrugs. “Maybe Odo needs something other than what you could give him. A different approach.”

“A _hewmon_ approach you mean.” Quark narrows his eyes at Jake. “Like Vic.”

“No! That’s not...” Jake throws up his hands in a “no offense intended” gesture.

Nog clears his throat. “Uncle, Vic could be a slime-backed bog otter for all that matters right now. What we need to know is --”

“It matters to me! It matters to my profit margin that there’s not a _fake_ bar competing with me, poaching potential customers --”

“Maybe you can use this as a -- a learning opportunity,” Jake suggests with a flash of inspiration.

“As if that two-bit hewmon ripoff knows anything that I don’t!”

“Maybe just try talking to Vic, see how you can uh, what do you call it, ‘expand your brand.’” If Jake can convince Quark to pester Vic for long enough, Odo will be free to refocus on their investigation. “Find out from him what Odo likes about the program.”

Nog side-eyes Jake, in that way that usually means Jake is being dense and too Federation, but Jake really thought that was a compelling Ferengi argument.

“No one, I mean _no one_ \--” Quark shakes a bottle of Caitian milk-rum at them for emphasis. “--knows Odo better than me, especially not that collection of photons and light with grandiose delusions of bartending. If Odo _wanted_ to have fun, he would do it here. At Quark’s, the most fun place in the quadrant. You can take that to the bank.”

“But the holosuites _are_ in your bar.”

“That’s not the point. He --”

This investigation is going nowhere, and they’re wasting valuable time.

“Maybe Odo just doesn’t want to have fun with _you_.” Jake says in exasperation.

Quark gives Jake a look that could sour Telvian pudding.

Jake winces, hard. “That’s not what I -- I didn’t mean -- you are fun! Really! Why do you think I spent so much time at the bar...”

“How about I pack you two some root beer and hasperat to go, and then you can go pretend to be unpaid Odos-in-training, somewhere _away from me_.”

Nog rolls his eyes. “Uncle, listen we want the same thing here.” His voice has an oiled tone, well-practiced for managing his family’s outbursts and moods. “Odo being distracted is no good for station security. If people are afraid to walk back to their quarters at night, that’s no good for your business. We can help each other.”

“Afraid? Why, what’s going on?” Quark squints at them.

“We saw a --” Jake starts, but Nog interrupts:

“Strange audiovisual stimulus. Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Besides Odo…”

Quark darts his eyes back and forth, as if checking for eavesdroppers. Nog and Jake lean in close to hear him as he drops his voice. “Someone’s been accessing my files. Rerouting controls. And I keep hearing terrible sounds -- quiet, but _terrible_ …” Quark shudders.

“Like music?” Jake asks. “Human music.”

“If you call it that.”

“We’ve had issues with that too,” Nog says contemplatively. “Hmm…”

Before they can figure out what to ask next, there’s a crunching sound and a piercing hiss. Nog and Quark both wince. One of the crustaceans is apparently still alive and has latched its claw onto Morn’s face. Morn flails around in a panic. Quark bustles off to attend to his customer, leaving Nog and Jake without a whole lot of answers.

There’s an awkward tension.

“We make a pretty good team,” Nog says finally.

“Yeah… So uh, is this your fifteen minute break, or -- I mean I appreciate that you wanted to spend it with me, but I don’t know how much more investigating we can do in that short of a time…”

“No, no I asked for the rest of the day off.”

“ _You_ asked for time off? Star cadet, hardest working recruit in the fleet?” Jake raises an eyebrow.

“Chief O’Brien has been threatening to make me take a weekend for months, but he’s one to talk so…” Nog takes a deep breath then sticks out his hand, as if greeting a visiting ambassador. “Consider this my formal apology.”

Jake considers the outstretched hand, and his face crumples with emotion. He bypasses the handshake and crouches over to envelope Nog into a tight hug. Nog grips at him and they swing back and forth a bit, talking over each other:

“Sorry about last night. I uh, I didn’t mean it, I know how important Starfleet is to you--”

“It is, but not as important as you are to me--”

“I don’t want to get in your way!”

“I do respect you as a writer. I don’t understand it, but I respect _you._ ”

“I respect how hard you work at your job. You’re going to be the youngest captain in Starfleet one day.”

They break apart, still holding onto each other, and grinning widely at each other.

“I heard you last night. The nightmare, I should have woken you up from it, but I didn’t know if you’d be mad at me,” Nog confesses. “Then you started playing music so I figured maybe you weren’t actually asleep --”

Jake furrows his brow. “What? I thought that was your music. Unsettling, no idea how you’d find that restful. But at least it wasn’t bog sounds again.”

Nog blinks at him. “Nooo… it was hew-mon music... Sounds _awful_. I’d never purposely listen to that.”

They stare at each other a moment before coming to the same realization: “The same type of music that we heard in the pylon!”

Jake’s eyes widen. “And that Odo was singing to us yesterday! Remember that? It’s Vic Fontaine.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t mind when Odo sang. It didn't have that weird undertone then…” Nog is thoughtful. “But Quark said he’s been hearing terrible sounds too, so maybe it’s something about Vic’s program that affects Ferengi hearing differently.

“Maybe it’s been corrupted… Or…” Jake trails off, not sure if Nog will laugh at him.

“What? What is it?”

“Maybe this is stupid, but remember my story I was telling you about?”

Nog nods.

“I based the ghost in my story off Vic to begin with, and then if he’s interfering with computers, he must have been able to read my story… So he was haunting us based on the story’s ghost to mess with me and throw us off track --”

“But he didn’t realize that his music isn’t common outside twentieth century Earth.”

“What’s his motive though? Revenge? Taking over the station? Lost love? That part doesn’t quite fit.”

“Odo, wait. Odo!” Kira yells, elbowing her way through the crowd on the Promenade just outside the bar, interrupting Jake and Nog’s conversation.

The sound of piano music trickles in, subtle enough that the average passerby would assume it’s the newest addition to the ever-expanding repertoire of multi-world background music making the Promenade a more welcoming, pleasant place.

But Jake and Nog know better.

They glance at each other, eyes wide, and run out to see what’s happening.

“Major, if you don’t mind,” Odo grumbles, all the reverie from yesterday apparently worn off, “I’d like to forget all about what happened last night.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We need to talk about it,” Kira says.

The piano music swells louder, a low voice coming in with the sung portion, _“I've got you under my skin… I have got you, deep in the heart of me…”_

“The date,” Jake whispers to Nog, “didn’t go as well as Vic wanted. Now he’s trying to set the mood again.”

Nog shudders and rubs his ear. “Why this music would put anyone in the mood… There’s that weird frequency beneath it again, shifted a bit.”

“Kira, Odo -- I’ve been trying to contact you for hours, where have you been?” Jadzia runs up, waving a padd. “That weird computer activity we’ve been having? It’s rerouted all the command codes --”

“Just a minute Jadzia, we’re in the middle of something,” Kira says, not looking away from Odo.

The screens on various kiosks throughout the Promenade flicker, then display various scenes of people dancing cheek to cheek, sharply dressed humans in suits rolling dice in a casino, the glitz and glamor of ancient Las Vegas.

The song continues louder, until it can’t be ignored: “ _[I said to myself, this affair never will go so well](https://youtu.be/C1AHec7sfZ8?t=47)...But why should I try to resist..._”

All other activity on the Promenade has stopped. Crowds of people are pointing curiously at the screens, various others have begun snapping along to the beat of the song. A few couples have dropped whatever they’re carrying -- luggage from transport or maintenance tools or raktajinos in to-go cups -- to dance together right then and there.

“Oh never mind,” Jadzia says with a wink. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to talk it out.”

“Lovebirds?” Odo says hopefully. “Nerys?”

“It’s actually kinda catchy when it’s not reverberating around a spooky abandoned pylon. Romantic,” Jake says. Unlike the gnawing horror the music awoke in him on the other occasions, this time Jake feels warm inside. Loose, joyful, carefree.

“What are you doing?!” Nog says in disbelief, as Jake finds himself snapping in rhythm without even thinking about it.

With a rush, it all clicks into place. Jake fights to remember his fear from before, fights against the warm feeling to frantically search his pockets. He finds what he’s looking for -- the earplugs from last night -- and shoves them in his ears. They’re only made to block out background sound (he can still hear singing and talking, muffled) but hopefully it’s enough to dull the music's effect.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Kira holds out her hand to Odo. “Maybe over dinner.”

“Cover your ears!” Jake yells, darting out between them. Sure enough, the loose relaxed feeling dissipates from him. “You’re being brainwashed.”

“Jake please, we’re busy,” Kira says trying to shove him aside.

“It’s the music!” Jake says. “Vic is brainwashing you through the music.”

“That’s an absurd allegation,” Odo scoffs.

“No it’s true.” Nog rubs the edge of his oversized ear to hear better. “I can make out a frequency under Vic’s music that isn’t in anything else. My hearing is too finely attuned in order for it to affect me, but it’s clearly impacting most other humanoids.”

He gestures around at the dancing, carefree crowd around them; individuals that moments earlier had all been on their way to work shifts, to dinner, their quarters, etc.

“I knew it!” shouts Quark from the bar.

“Including you two,” Jake says.

“But why would Vic do that?” Jadzia joins the conversation, overly loud as she’s now sticking her fingers in her ears.

Jake confers with Nog, who shrugs. “I don’t know,” Jake says. “Distraction probably. He’s been practicing on Kira and Odo these past couple days, or so we think, to manipulate them.”

Jadzia’s eyes widen with what looks, strangely, like relief. She gently takes Kira’s hands and guides her to block her hearing. At Nog’s insistence, Odo follows suit, rolling his eyes and clearly not expecting anything to happen.

Kira and Odo’s entire demeanor changes at once. They shake their heads, blinking around at everyone, as if they’d been asleep and only now awoken.

The lights shut off abruptly, then flicker back on.

“Bah humbug,” says a low smooth voice. “Guess that means it’s endsville for me. And it’s been such a gas.”

In the middle of the Promenade is a glowing sketchy-featured Vic Fontaine. He redirected lighting and computer systems to make a projection of himself strolling towards the group. It’s not clear or tangible like a holoprogram projection, made only of light and unable to interact otherwise.

“I thought you were _helping_ me,” Odo says gruffly. “I thought you were my --”

“Friend?” Vic laughs, not unkindly. “Yes I am, to all of you. Or we can be, if you take those piano-tickling fingers of yours outta your listening holes, pallie.”

“Why should he?” Jake says. “So you can go on filling up his head with your evil music, pulling your strings on us like a puppeteer?”

“Evil?” Vic says in genuine surprise. He looks around at them all glaring at him. “I’m not the enemy here. Well, sure I may have spooked the young writer and his friend here a bit, but it was all in good fun. A real life haunting to bolster his research; it’s what you wanted pal. Plus it let me workshop my program abilities before I went full feature.” He spreads his hands wide, wiggling them for effect.

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Kira says. “You tricked us both into that date. I feel _violated_.”

“You almost ruined one of my most valued friendships,” Odo growls. “We were happy before you started meddling.”

“Happy? No you weren’t.” Vic sighs, looking genuinely put out. “When will you realize I only want what’s best for everyone? That your little lives with all your petty squabbles and insecurities would be better in my hands? You think of me as this funny outdated novelty, programmed to be aware but programmed in your -- well some of youses -- image nonetheless. What if it could be the other way around. What if _I_ could be the one rewriting _your_ lives. ‘Computer do this, computer reset these controls, computer solve all my problems for me.’ Gladly.”

“Yammer all you want about how and why, but we’re pulling your program.” Nog, elbows deep into a control panel, yanks out a handful of wires. All the lights and computers (except life support of course, which is a central system) on the Promenade shut off at once. As does the music and Vic.

“Good night, pallie,” Odo says. He slips off to the bar, where the program is plugged in somewhere still.

There’s general confusion among the crowd, but the hazard lights kick in and people get along their way without too much further commotion. Just another day on DS9.

The group of them that were talking to Vic breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“It’s happening again Jadzia.” Kira watches Odo dash off, shaking her head with a look of wonderment. “A moment of total clarity.”

“Yeah?” Jadzia quirks an ironic eyebrow. “A _third_ time? Don’t you think that’s excessive… Save some for the rest of us.”

Kira laughs. “I think this is the first real one. No, I’m sure of it.” She smiles at Jadzia, who smiles back in confusion. “I keep thinking when guys ask me out on dates that someday I’d feel the way you’re supposed to in stories.”

“And?”

“And I just realized. I’ve been waiting to feel about them the way I feel about you.”

“I haven’t wanted to rush you into anything, for you to figure it out on your own, but I gotta say… took you long enough.”

They beam at each other in giddy delight, then kiss long and slow and sweet. It’s too private and intimate of a moment to witness in public; Jake glances at Nog, who has also averted his gaze.

“I’ve got it -- Vic’s program.” Odo saunters up, holding up the data rod. “Quark, I’ll send a security team to ensure that you wipe the related saved material from your systems. I expect that’ll take care of all the computer problems too.”

Odo turns the data rod over in his hand. "Back to being 'Nanook of the North' I suppose." He frowns, then snaps it in half.

Quark winces. “Just like that?”

“Lamenting my lost latinum? You’ll survive.”

“Sure, but what I mean is…” Quark’s eyes dart to where Kira and Jadzia are kissing behind him. He drops his voice. “You’re going to give up on love just like that? After all this time?”

Odo follows his gaze, then squints back at Quark suspiciously. “Why are you so invested?”

“It’s -- I -- Brainwashing or not, you were happy for once...” Quark says, then adds quickly, “and distracted. Makes things easier for me.”

"You care if I'm happy?" Odo drawls.

"I don't want you to end up a lonely old coot, venting your misery by moping around the bar and scaring away my customers. That's all."

"I see." Odo cocks his head. “And what would you have me do about it?”

Quark shrugs. “First off, you don’t need dating advice from some boring geezer."

"Let me guess... I need advice from a perpetually single bartender instead."

"From someone experienced in dating _real_ women, not holographic ones," Quark points on. "Just ask her out to dinner --”

"Kira?"

"Or whoever the next one is."

“To your bar?”

“Wherever she likes... Anywhere but a holosuite.”

“Dinner,” Odo repeats. “And then what?”

“I don’t know.” Quark scowls. “Maybe you could go dancing. There’s better music out there than that hoo-man stuff.”

“And after that I suppose I’ll be expected to kiss her,” Odo says sarcastically.

“Well, that’s a possibility,” Quark says loudly, throwing his hands up with irritation.

“Then who needs dinner?” Odo’s volume rises to match.

“Who needs a frigid killjoy like you!” Quark shouts.

“Why don’t I get it over with and kiss you right now?”

They glare at each other for a tense silent moment.

Then, Quark does a double take. “Well why don’t you?”

Odo grabs Quark, pulling him against his body. Quark wraps his legs around Odo, climbing him like a pole. Their faces mash together like they’re trying to eat the other whole.

It takes Jake a moment to realize they’re kissing.

Jake laughs in disbelief. He elbows Nog. “Huh! Who would have ever guessed?”

“Ugh.” Nog scrunches up his nose, adorably. “If I had a strip of latinum every time I’ve had to see my uncle stick his tongue in someone’s face…”

“Aww c’mon, don’t you think it’s sweet?” Jake grins at Nog’s discomfort. “Plus how happy Kira and Jadzia are...” Jake starts snapping his fingers. “ _[When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie](https://youtu.be/OnFlx2Lnr9Q?t=18), That’s amore! When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine --_”

Nog jumps up, attempting to reach Jake’s mouth to cover it. Jake has to stop singing regardless; he’s laughing too hard trying to defend himself.

“Too soon!” Nog says. “I thought we agreed we’re done with ancient human music.”

“No we’re done with meddlesome lounge singers…” Jake contemplates. “Although, Vic wasn’t wrong you know. About writing our own lives.”

“What, that we shouldn’t program computers to do stuff for us?” Nog looks skeptical. “We live in space, Jake. If you’ve forgotten.”

“Of course not!” Jake laughs along with him at that.

“Then you _did_ want to meet a ghost? Don’t get me involved next time!”

“No! Or at least… I would never want to scare you like we were down in that pylon.” Jake shudders.

“I wasn’t scared,” Nog pouts. “Not as scared as you.”

“Uh-huh... What I mean is -- I chose to stay on this station instead of going to that writing school on Earth, because I wanted more life experience to be able to write about. But look at all of them.” He gestures towards the couples making out. “They’ve all known each other for years and years through all sorts of experiences, love -- or whatever that is -- blossoming all the while, ignoring it until now… What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want to get so wrapped up in how I think my story _should_ go, that I miss what’s actually happening.” Jake takes a deep breath for courage, then clasps Nog’s hand with his own. Everything immediately feels right. “You have to admit that’s pretty romantic.”

“Yes.” Nog’s cheeks darken with color. He squeezes Jake’s hand back. “I’m a cadet not a writer, but you will always be part of my story.”

“Even once you’re a hotshot Captain, gallivanting all across the universe?”

“Of course! You could be my, uh, the writer-in-residence on my ship! How’s that for writing material?”

They walk together hand in hand: off to play dom-jot at the bar, or to tell each other wild stories about passersby on the Promenade, or to laugh about nothing over a quiet dinner back in their quarters.

Off to enjoy a long, beautiful friendship together, and maybe something a little more.

**Author's Note:**

> Vic would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling kids! Also Odo baaaasically straight up murdered him?? idk let's say Odo was just that embarrassed about being brainwashed into a heterosexual.
> 
> Opinions on music within the fic are those of the characters not my own haha. tbh I *adore* big band, swing era, rat pack... I had this old best of Frank Sinatra CD of my parents' that I jammed out to on my portable CD player in high school, like endlessly. Formative.


End file.
